Dear Diary,
It's been a while since I last knew what it was like to be genuinely happy. A dark matter looming overhead bringing judgement. I know that as I write this, I may truly be happy, in the end. I know that the best thing for me right now is to forgive, and just maybe then, I can finally let go. I want to be free. To become one of the stars, to be a part of something greater. When I was younger, my mother would tell me stories of a beautiful place called Heaven, she put her faith in the Lord, and when Dad left, so did her faith. But I could remember the story she would tell me at night before bed, one about heaven. I want to know that feeling. I haven't felt anything for quite some some, and this numbing quality, should have served me good. But as I write this, my sorrows seep into these pages. A possibility in solicitude. But I have committed myself. I died years ago. Now is the time I die for real. I have come to terms with my past, I hold no grudges. I forgive you. Most of all I forgive myself. So they know why I did what I did. So they know that prior to these events, I will be okay.
Enclosed in this journal, holds the key as to why I am no longer here. And if you are reading this, know that it is okay to be weak. I, myself am weak. Death has seduced me, and I have succumbed to his way. But he knows now, I am ready.
Signed,
Anna
I'm so sorr-